


who we were when

by toxica939



Series: who we were when [1]
Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Alternate Universe - Teenagers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-06-26 00:25:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15651996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toxica939/pseuds/toxica939
Summary: Robert realises he's in love with Aaron on a Wednesday. He's balls deep in Heather Connerty's mum at the time, which isn't ideal, but what can you do?





	who we were when

Robert realises he's in love with Aaron on a Wednesday. He's balls deep in Heather Connerty's mum at the time, which isn't ideal, but what can you do?

He keeps going, because there isn't really any other option; tips forward to bury his face between the pillow and the cloud of her hair, does his best to drown out her moaning with the sound of his own heavy breathing.

Afterwards, while he's washing up in the en suit she shares with her husband, she comes to stand in the doorway, wrapped in a bed sheet like this is some sort of romance novel; _Afternoon Delight._

“So that was fun,” she says, smile on her face. She might as well be licking her lips, for how subtle she's being. Robert's sure he thought she was sexy an hour ago, all stockings and _you're old enough for a beer, aren't you Robert?_

“Yeah,” he says. He can see her floral bedspread, spilled on to the floor by the bed, his school tie poking out from under it.

“Steve's away again on Wednesday, if you're...” she trails off suggestively.

And that's about the time he realises he has absolutely no idea what her name is.

:::

Robert kissed Aaron once, back when they were kids and Aaron thought telling Robert he fancied the lad at the end of Casper was the same as coming out.

Robert had rolled over on Aaron's bedroom floor, legs still in his sleeping bag, said, “Do you fancy me then?”

Aaron had huffed, in that way he has, like Robert is insufferable and he wishes he'd go away.

“No go on, you do, don't you?”

“Do one. As if I'd fancy some scrawny little twat like you.”

Robert had gasped in mock offence, scrambled up to tackle Aaron down off his desk chair and on to the floor. They'd rolled there, pretending to scrap until Robert came up on top. He'd pressed a dry kiss to Aaron's slack mouth, made it smack.

“There,” he'd said, held up on shaking arms. “Now you're definitely a gay.”

Aaron had blushed right up to his hairline, gone limp beneath him. “And what does that make you?” he'd asked, sulky.

“I'll let you know,” Robert had told him.

Except he didn't. Aaron had walked in on him with his hand down Finn Barton’s jeans, up against the bathroom sink at some girl's house party three years later. They didn't talk for a week after that, until Aaron admitted he was sort of grateful for an excuse to dump the boring bastard, even if that didn't mean Robert wasn't a total prick for doing it.

Robert had slung an arm around his shoulders, stomach heavy with relief. He'd told Aaron he could do better anyway, and meant it right through to the bones of him.

:::

Dad and Victoria are at the kitchen table when Robert gets home. It's still early but it's dark out, cold enough for gloves.

Dad barely looks up. “There's soup in the pot,” he says, like Robert can't smell it, can't see the fogged up windows. Like there isn't always soup in the pot on a Wednesday. Got to keep Andy going when he gets in from rugby, haven't we?

Robert, who is not in the habit of accepting things from Dad, not any more, shrugs. “Not hungry.”

Dad levels him with a look then, the one he thinks Robert's afraid of, the one that would have Andy showing his belly. Robert looks back evenly, balls his hands into fists in his trouser pockets.

“Suit yourself,” Dad says, cracking first.

Robert nods, ruffles Vic's hair on his way by. “Always do.”

He spends the rest of the night in his room without interruption. He wants to text Aaron, confess his sins, see if Aaron can loosen the choke hold this house has around his throat.

He doesn't; does his coursework instead, diverts a call from some girl at school he's saved in his phone as _bathroom bj_. Aaron could do better than him, probably.

He hears Andy come home, the murmur of voices downstairs. Dad's approval, freely given.

Another scintillating night in Sugden household.

:::

Aaron doesn't go to school any more, dropped out after he pissed his GCSEs up the wall and went to work for his uncle Cain.

Robert drops by sometimes on his way home. Today, Aaron's alone, just two feet and the points of his knees poking out from under a sad looking Renault.

Robert knocks on the bonnet to make him jump, tries not to let this grin waver when Aaron slide out.

He's got oil smeared black across his forehead, five o'clock shadow Robert couldn't grow if he tried darkening his jaw. Robert want to put his mouth there, all of a sudden, feel the hairs crunch under his tongue. Aaron is sharp lines and sharper tongue, which Robert has always delighted in. It's somewhat disconcerting to find himself wanting to smooth those edges now, see if Aaron will bend to him the way Robert thinks he would.

“No desperate housewives today?” Aaron asks, not getting up. He holds his hand out for the wrench by Robert's elbow.

Robert shakes his head, even though Aaron's disappeared again. “Nope. I'm all yours.”

There's a clang from under the car, loud enough to make him jump.

“You alright?”

He hears Aaron cough. “Fine. I'm going to be a while here though, bloke's coming back for this at five and I've got to lock up.”

“Cain's letting you lock up now?”

“On holiday in't he? Dan sloped off early.”

Robert nods to himself, not quite sure what to do now. It's not as though he'd planned on confessing all here, over some screen wash and a tarpaulin sheet. But still.

He curls a hand around the strap of his rucksack, feels childish, somehow, in his blazer and sixth form tie, when Aaron's in his boots and overalls; dirty and sexy. A man in ways that still take Robert by surprise.

He's quiet for too long, and Aaron slides back into view. “You can wait at mine if you want,' he offers, because Aaron's been reading Robert like a book since they were in pull ups - he doesn't want to go home.

“Alright, cheers. Your mum doing tea?”

Aaron scoffs. “As if.”

:::

Chas is in the kitchen when Robert slips in the back door, and she spots him before he can sneak up the stairs.

“Aaron's not in, love,” she says. She's got a tea towel over her shoulder and it reminds him of his own mum so sharply he nearly buckles with it.

He recovers quickly, always does. “I know, I've just seen him. He said it was alright to wait for him upstairs.”

The way she manages to shrug with just her mouth is Aaron through and through. “If you can get in the door through all his crap, you be my guest.”

Aaron's room is a disaster area, as ever. Opening the door clears a little path and Robert kicks a few DVDs and dirty socks under the bed to make himself some room.

He shucks his blazer and tie, finds Aaron's purple hoodie on top of a pile of clothes in the corner and slips into it. It's cozy, soft inside, and smells of Aaron. Not good, exactly, but good to Robert. Like something he could crave. He wishes the fact that Aaron's obviously been wiping his nose on the sleeve was even remotely a turn off.

Robert really is a lost cause.

He flops down on to Aaron's bed, tugs the hoodie around himself more firmly, face turned on the pillow. The warmth of a home he's welcome in, surrounded by Aaron, light fading to the orange glow of a streetlight filtered soft and hazy through curtains Aaron never bother to open. It's like a balm to his aching shoulders, pulling him under.

:::

He wakes to the dip of the bed when Aaron sits beside him, a gentle hand stroking through his hair. He's not gentle, Aaron, not on purpose, so Robert pretends to be asleep for a while longer, makes a show of blinking himself awake.

“Sorry,” he says. “Didn't mean to fall asleep.”

A lamp clicks on. Aaron's cheeks are pink, probably from the cold, and the look in his eyes is unreadable. “S'alright. You looked tired, earlier.”

A by-product of going six rounds with Dad before breakfast. Nothing new.

Robert reaches out, curls his fingers around the open edge of Aaron's filthy overalls, holds on. “I'm alright now.”

“Yeah?” Aaron's voice is quiet, and he's looking down at Robert's hand.

It moves without his permission, slips inside to flatten his palm over the rise and fall of Aaron's chest, where it's hot and damp through his thin t shirt. It shudders the air still between them, and he can feel it when Aaron holds his breath. He watches Aaron's throat bob when he swallows.

“Aaron,” he says, confession bubbling behind his teeth.

Aaron looks up, dark lashes and blue eyes. Robert wants him like an ache, like a bruise in the middle of his chest.

Aaron's hand closes around Robert's wrist, dry and calloused from hard graft, too tight. He shakes his head. “Don't.”

“What?”

“Don't,” Aaron says, giving Robert's hand back to him. “Not if you don't mean it.”

Robert pushes up to sitting. It puts them almost chest to chest, nose to nose. “What if I mean it?”

Aaron looks away, bottom lip bitten up between his teeth, and released again. “When do you ever mean anything?” he asks bitterly.

Robert gets a hand up, palms Aaron's cheek to make him look, make him see how serious Robert is. “I always mean it when I'm with you. I just didn't know _what_ it meant.”

He watches Aaron's eyes flicker, back and forth across Robert's face, a quick dip down to his mouth like Aaron can't help himself.

“Alright,” Aaron says, lifts his chin. “Say it then.”

It's a challenge. A dare. Robert feels breathless with it.

He feathers his fingers over the sharp curve of Aaron's cheekbone, thumb in the dip of his chin, says, “I love you.”

Aaron's mouth drops open, catching on the pad of Robert's thumb. “You what?”

“I love you.” Robert likes the way it feels in his mouth this time, how sure he sounds.

Aaron's eyes have gone glassy. “I swear to god, Robert, if you're having me on.”

“I'm not. I promise you I'm not.”

Aaron pulls away, rises to pace over to his desk and back. He swipes a hand across his face. “I didn't. I thought you wanted to shag,” he says, a little more shrill than Robert has ever heard him.

Robert shrugs, doesn't dare move. “That too.”

Aaron looks at him like he's lost it. “Are you serious with this shit? You _love_ me? Just like that?”

This isn't going to plan.

“What do you mean, just like that? I'm saying I'm in love with you, if you don't feel the same way just say, I'm a big boy I can take it.”

He can't. He thinks the withered shreds of his heart might actually drop right out of his chest if Aaron says no. He should have thought this through, should have broken it more gently. Should have waited.

But that isn't him, is it? When he wants something he has to have it. Dad's always tutting at him about showing a little restraint.

Aaron's gone still in the middle of the floor. “Are you fucking joking? You're going to sit there and pretend you don't know how I feel about you? Seriously?”

That's more like it.

“I'm in love with you,” Robert says again, getting up. He's closer to Aaron height in just his socks, bumping into Aaron's boots when he steps in close. “I'm in love with you.”

Aaron swallows hard, jaw tense. “So you keep saying.”

Robert takes him by the neck, a hand on either side, thumbs to tilt his head up so Aaron has to look at him, has to stop hiding. “Say it back.”

“No.”

“You do. I know you do. I know _you_ ,” Aaron opens his mouth to speak but Robert keeps going. “And you know me. You know me. Better than anyone. So it took me a while to catch up, so what?”

Aaron doesn't seem to have anything to say to that, so Robert slips his arms around his waist, pulls him in tight.

“I'm filthy,” Aaron protests, but it's half-hearted, hands coming up to rest lightly against Robert's shoulders.

Robert shakes his head, eyes on Aaron's mouth, where it's bitten red; wet and open, the furrow of his brow. “Say it back,” Robert tries again, a whisper in the breath before their mouths meet.

Aaron seizes for a second, mouth tense against him, and then he melts like water, surging up against Robert's chest, fingers curling. Robert kisses him harder, gathers Aaron to him and learns the shape of his mouth, tongues sliding together.

Aaron's out of breath when they part, still clinging to Robert and plastered up against him. There's the start of a smile on his lips and his next exhale is amused.

It's like surfacing, like the first clean breath Robert has taken in years.

 

**Author's Note:**

> join me on tumblr, i'm vckaarrob


End file.
